Apple Tree Logs

 

Kim, up front, behind her is Merricat, Constance (at the woodpile) Liam, Issachar, Socks and Robin

Mike, who mows our lawn, fixes our toilet and chain saws our fallen trees, cut up the fallen branch form the apple tree yesterday.

He piled the wood, that he’ll split later in the summer for firewood, next to the barn and dragged most of the branches to a burn pile near the pond.

He left a few big branches for me to give to the donkeys and sheep this winter when they can’t graze.  Hopefully it will keep them from chewing on the barn.

The barnyard felt empty to me this morning.  I’d gotten used to the tree-like fallen branch creating an archway that Fate liked to run through and the donkeys liked to stand under.

Mike left us a stump to use as a table or a stool. “If you sand it and throw some water on it, you’ll be able to see every line in the wood,” he told me.  A big hunk of burl juts off one side of the stump.  I’m sure it would be beautiful.

Last winter I bought a palm sander for $5 from my friend Anne, so who knows, maybe I’ll take it to the apple tree stump.  We could use a little table between the chairs under the apple tree. Or maybe I’d just leave it in the barnyard to sit on.  The animals could nibble on it and we’d always have a comfortable  place to hang out with the donkeys.

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